


Lying to Yuu

by redpineapple



Category: D.Gray-man
Genre: Break Up, Fluff and Angst, Kanda isn't okay, Lavi is in denial, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-23
Updated: 2020-07-23
Packaged: 2021-03-05 06:13:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 3,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25459876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redpineapple/pseuds/redpineapple
Summary: Bookmen can't form attachments and neither does Kanda. That's the theory, anyway.
Relationships: Kanda Yuu/Lavi
Kudos: 11





	1. Abandonment Chapter

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Yeah, I know. Total abuse of a bad pun. But I just had to, a name like that is just waiting to have the absolute crap molested out of it via pun-ery.

Yuu Kanda didn't care.

It wasn't anything to him when Lavi sidled into his room, pale blue towel wrapped around his neck.

His reaction was purely physical when those flushed pink lips found his own definitely not matching ones.

All he felt was a deep satisfaction when Lavi shuddered and shifted inside him. Pushing him to his limit then letting him fall back to the world.

So it only made sense that when the fiery haired fiend found him-

(Sorry, Yuu. This thing between us? No can do anymore.)

-the Japanese man felt only a shallow disappointment.

What didn't make sense, was how well the young samurai could lie, even to himself.

But never to Lavi.

So when the redhead bent to set a chaste kiss upon his unsuspecting lips, one hand mussing the obedient fringe and the other reaching around to slip something into the soft material of his training pants, Kanda's heart fled the scene, like sand through a sieve.

Moving his lips from the Exorcist's, Kanda set his head upon Lavi's shoulder in a rare show of affection.


	2. Brain in a Jar

The envelope was small, maybe half the size of a regular one, though still rectangular. His name was scrawled in neatly flowing cursive, penned with the traditional black ink from the implements the Bookmen used –Kanda thought it went nicely with the soft periwinkle of the envelopes paper.

For the first fortnight after receiving it, admiring the penmanship and aesthetics caging the contents was as far as he got.

Which was, as he told himself repeatedly, perfectly acceptable. He was in no rush to read the letter surely inside, because it quite simply wasn't important. The Rabbit was gone now; and there wasn't a thing he could do about it.

But he was getting off track –he didn't care that the Bookman's apprentice had left.

He'd heard from the Moyashi's ramblings that the Bookman Clan had decided that there was nothing more that the war could offer history –technically the Innocence War didn't exist.

Che'yeah, right. And The Earl's just a little misunderstood.

. . .

By the end of the next week, his annoyance at the stupid Rabbit for leaving him alone with his traitorous thoughts had morphed into a volatile mood that was equal parts rage and curiosity.

Which, as it turned out, was exactly the reason he required for opening the letter.


	3. Love Notes

The envelope's innards, spread before him in a creamy pool did nothing to assuage either his curiosity or his anger. He felt no satisfaction in the jagged edge of the tear he'd ripped onto the pretty envelope. That tear felt like a mirror image of his beating black hole right then.

He tried to pause a moment, meaning to question why he cared, though discovered he was more interested in the letter. Kanda's shoulders shuddered with a sigh that should have thundered from a man twenty years his senior. Moving with all the haste his mood demanded, his long fingers shifted from the dark comforter on his bed to the roughness of the paper. His dark eyes sank into the Rabbit's loopy cursive.

Kanda,

By the time you read this, you'll have heard why I left the Order. Why I had to leave you.

If by some likelihood miracle you haven't, then get out from under your reclusive rock and talk to Allen or Lenalee. They'll tell you.

On another note, I wanted to say goodbye to you, but I wasn't sure you'd hear me out once you figured out I was leaving. So, like a coward, I wrote this letter, slipped it into your pocket and sealed it with a kiss. That's the plan, anyway. Hopefully it'll work.

Even if you had heard me out, I'm not sure I'd have the balls to say goodbye properly. I had this little fantasy, where I'd go to your room, you'd just be lying there, all sexy and dopey 'cause I would have woken you up. I'd walk over to you; give you a hug, a little kiss. See, in this fantasy, you're sleepy enough to not kill me. Then I'd slide into that bed beside you, slip my arm around you (you're still dopey, see) and tell you how I feel. How much I hate leaving you, how I'd give anything to stay.

Unfortunately, the Bookman Clan have received a request for service. Specifically the service of Bookman and I. I don't know where we're going yet, but it'll be far away. I know you won't want to see me again after this, and you won't have to worry about running into me now.

Here the paper was crinkled and dry, as if it had been wet at one point or another. Ghostly indentations indicated that more had been added to the other side, like a tentative afterthought that Lavi hadn't quite been sure about. The samurai paused before flipping the note. It didn't make sense that Lavi had felt for him. Bookmen didn't form attachments, he'd heard that one a thousand times. Just because it jumped like a Rabbit didn't mean it was one.

He turned the paper. A life of meditation having left no imprint on his patience.

I have a confession.

I broke the only rule.

Kanda, you violent, stubborn, beautiful man, I love Yuu.

The samurai leaned back against his pillow. Hand and letter dropping to his lean stomach almost without his notice.

"Don't call me Yuu." The sentence slipped from his lips out of sheer habit, sinking into the still air of his room and sitting on his immobile chest like an overzealous cat come to leach its master's body heat.

Kanda knew that Lavi was one thing that would never make sense to him.


	4. Rivers in Egypt

The Moyashi arrived upon his threshold around eleven the next morning, toting a large helping of soba and a nauseatingly concerned expression.

Kanda allowed the soba to cross the liminal point of the door, but he refused to accept the Beansprout this early in the morning. The fact that very little of the morning remained was of no consequence to him.

"Where were you this morning, BaKanda? Usually you're one of the first people awake in this place, well apart from Komui and Reever. The whole Science Department, in fact. All workaholic insomniacs, certifiable as well. I guess Jerry and the Gatekeeper would be up too, with their jobs . . . "the Japanese man tuned the idiot's prattling out, sidling further into the room and picking at his soba. As hungry as he wasn't, it was sacrilegious to waste the succulent noodles.

The brat's tone changed, a welcome alteration until Kanda's sharp ears picked up on the worry that tinged the words.

"Kanda, are you doing okay? Lavi didn't want to leave, you know."

Kanda sighed, he was sick of this crap. Everyone and their mother (regardless of the Order's stark lack of women, especially those of the maternal persuasion) had harassed him to that end by that point. While not quite common knowledge before, Lavi's swift exit had made the relationship between the samurai and the bookman apprentice a known fact around the Order, which proved a mighty irritation to Kanda.

What people didn't seem to understand was the part where their supposed 'deep and special, one for the ages romance' was nothing but sex; a mutually beneficial arrangement that suited the two teenagers quite well and thus served its purpose. This was how they'd sold it to Bookman when the elderly Panda had uncovered their former secret whilst they were making use of the Order's twenty four hour bathing facilities. Even if Bookman senior didn't quite believe them, he'd never had any proof to take to his redheaded apprentice: the two acted appropriately standoffish anytime Kanda's legs were anywhere besides wrapped around the redhead's lithe, muscular waist.

So it was for this reason, previous night's revelation aside, that Yuu Kanda could look the Moyashi in that funny looking left eye of his and tell him exactly what he'd always told everyone from the beginning:

"I don't give two fucking shits about that bloody Rabbit. Why must everyone be so damned involved."

What he didn't add was how his heart cringed under the black tangle of his tattoo as his lips wrapped around the words, spitting them into the biting, wintry air with all the force of his habitual anger.

Denial was more than just a river in Egypt to Yuu Kanda.

. . .

Lavi, unlike Kanda, did care.

He'd hated leaving the samurai, almost couldn't.

It was all he could think of, until he learned of their destination, anyway.

As it turned out, the special request that had been made of them wasn't as far as he'd promised Yuu. It was, in fact, entirely too close and personal to be termed 'far' by any stretch of the imagination.

Their services had been demanded by none other than the Millennium Earl himself.


	5. Ink

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mild spoilers for Kanda's past and the second half of the anime, or somewhere around book nine for the manga.
> 
> Also, the plot diverges from canon in this chapter, and it probably won't follow canon from now on, which should minimise spoilers.
> 
> Disclaimer: Why would I need to write this if I owned DGM?

The inn in which the Earl had placed the Bookmen in was spacious, the first Lavi had ever been in that accommodated the sheer number of books that he and the old Panda carried with them. Additionally, there were twin desks, facing each other from opposite sides of the white-washed walls, each had a gaslight, inkpot and - ironically, Lavi was sure- a bible. New and old Testaments. Even the beds were at odds, headboards leaning into the wall with the ends straining to meet in the middle. Lavi had the distinct impression that the room had once been two, cut in half and pasted back together. The only tipping point in the balance was the entrance, which radiated off of 'his' side of their accommodations.

Lavi, stationed at his desk, dipped his ballpoint into the deep pool of ink, swirling the tip and savouring the broken surface until a few bubbles rose, reminding him of the blood that had risen from Kanda's wounds as he carried Krory through the ark. Blood had slipped from the samurai to slick the ground, staining his face as he fell, he twisted his form and opened an eye, clearly hating that Lavi see him this way.

Not even knowledge of Kanda's lotus could have stemmed the flow of desperate worry that leaked from Lavi. Bookman, he was sure, had picked up on this; on the very obvious way in which his apprentice had refused to leave the unconscious exorcist's side. ("I need to document the healing process, he is an experiment.") Bookman had let him be. Seeming to know that his apprentice needed this, even if he would have him end it days after the boat slid into port.

The mortality of the man who wasn't had done exactly what Bookman had hoped; pushed Lavi away from him, forcing the redhead to consider his own life, creating the opportunity for their break up to be as easy as it could be.

There were things, however, that even Bookman didn't know.

He couldn't know that the reason Lavi had fostered a relationship with the small cat that belonged to the innkeeper was because when he closed his eye he could almost imagine that it was Yuu's silken hair that wafted through his fingers. Or that anytime he'd left Lavi to feed himself, his apprentice had wandered down the frosted streets until he'd found a place where a serving of soba and green tea could be ordered. Hadn't seen the way in which Lavi laid his chopsticks at ease upon the rim of his teacup when he was done. Couldn't imagine the damage he'd done to the redhead –depriving him of the only heart he truly cared was still beating.


	6. Unrequited

Thirty two days.

Thirty two fucking days and a certain samurai was sick of everything.

Kanda was mad, though he wasn't sure how much of that was built up sexual frustration and how much was his distaste for the Rabbit's absence.

Shit was all that came to mind, as he felt himself wake easily from the edge, heat soaking into his curled hand.

It was all that bloody Rabbit's fault. Why'd he have to leave? (Kanda resolutely ignored the twinge he that tugged at him with the image of him in conjunction with blood.) If he was here, Kanda wouldn't have to do this himself, wouldn't have to imagine soft pants that whipped along sweat covered skin, carrying his name in their whispered wakes.

It was over fast. Too fast for any dignity, considering it had only been thirty two days. The Rabbit always had made him want it too much. Chase it a little too hard.

He let himself fall upon the soft doona of his bed, obsidian hair falling across his face, settling in the ridges created by his lips. Closing dark eyes, he let new thoughts dance across his mind –ones he hadn't allowed himself before.

There was a distinct possibility that he missed the Rabbit.

But only, Kanda hurried, the quick and satisfying release he'd represented. After all, another warm body was better than lonely, fumbling hands.

Or maybe, the Rabbit's voice floated through his mind; maybe you miss me for real?

Not a snowball's chance in Hell. Yuu Kanda didn't miss people. Especially not foolhardy Rabbits.

Dammit, why couldn't the blasted Rabbit be here?

Forget that, thought Kanda, honestly; why wasn't Lavi here with him?


	7. False Comfort

The susurrus rumble of Merla's purr moved through pale fingers, along an outstretched arm and up a lean neck, all the way to the parted lips that sat on Lavi's face, prodding at their corners until they lifted. Moving his hands to cup the kitten's chest, he hefted the tiny weight into his arms, cradling her close to his body and letting soft words fall from his lips to those fuzzed ears.

"There, girl. Cute, arent'cha?"

She snuggled into his hand, her ears flicked.

So soft. Just like Yuu's hair . . .

Behind him, the door to his and Bookman's room scratched open. Footsteps crossed the threshold before ceasing.

"You know a cat can never love you back, fool. Forming an attachment would be pointless."

"I'm not attached, Gramps. Jus' lookin'for a litte company..."

With a harrumph and surely a nod, for when it came to Bookman Senior neither was ever alone, his master exited, leaving Lavi with nothing more than the slow crawl of the heat from his body. He shivered as he listened to Bookman's footfalls trundle around the apartment the Earl had arranged for them. As a fully qualified postgraduate student in double meanings, Lavi couldn't help but shudder back the memories of Yuu. God, he'd been so careful. So, so careful. They'd never been reckless. Not even when his body had burned with all the vengeance of corporeal flames and his heart the same - all for being apart from his special stubborn bastard.

But Bookman knew. Of course Bookman knew.

Bitterly, Lavi supposed that he should be at least a little grateful that the old Panda hadn't made a show of the knowledge.

At least this way the dark haired man, his dark haired man, couldn't be hurt by Lavi. As long as only Bookman and his friends at the Order knew about Kanda, knew how he'd made the future Bookman's fate a curse, there wasn't an Earl in the world who could use Kanda against Lavi.


	8. Letters

The missions were the worst.

At least through the nights he could sleep. He always made a special effort to abuse his muscles as thoroughly as possible – anything to shorten the amount of time between crawling between the sheets and drifting off upon the magic carpet of his subconscious on his way to the Rabbit. In his dreams at least they still shared a bed, even if it meant nothing. But on the trains, he couldn't doze for fear of either missing his stop or moaning something in his sleep, alerting either the Finder or a fellow exorcist to his longing. It was on the trains that he slipped back to those last moments, where Lavi had crushed him, so efficiently that Kanda himself hadn't realised it for weeks.

. . .

Padding across the rented room, aglow with the pathetic attempts of a solitary candle to stem the dimness of evening, Kanda moved to the scratchy bed, slipping his hand into his pocket as he went.

It had been three days since the letter had arrived at Headquarters and he couldn't forget the look on Lenalee's face when she had handed him the envelope, soft skin touching his own battle worn hide in a way he was sure was meant to be comforting. ("It's from him.") She smiled the last word bitterly, though Kanda wasn't sure if it was because she had some kind of unresolved feelings about Bookman Junior or if she was simply empathising with her childhood friend.

Like the first letter, Kanda had taken his time in working up to opening it. He fell onto the scruffily made bed, sore muscles rejoicing as the mattress took over the job of keeping Kanda's ass off the floor. Long fingers teased the edge of the envelope, rubbing at all the tiny little rips that were the scars of his many attempts to actually read the Rabbit's words.

Kanda extended a finger into the envelope, sliding out the paper inside and taking a deep breath. He thumbed the back of unwritten side of the page, feeling the indentations of the pen. He used a fingernail to trace the barely there imprint of a stray inked fingerprint.


	9. The Words Within

Hi Yuu! How's it going? (I bet you're scowling right now, right about ready to shout 'Stupid Rabbit.'). You miss me yet, Yuu-chan? I miss you, now only Gramps picks on me, I need some variety!

There was more, but Kanda couldn't read it. Equally due to the lone tear that leaked from his eye, splashing onto the paper as the clear decision in the letter. Lavi's cavalier tone had convinced him that the Rabbit was lying – trying to absolve himself some unknown guilt by writing to Kanda. This letter was so at odds with the previous one that the samurai knew Lavi was trying to take back the afterthought, all his too perfect words and promises.

Lavi didn't care.

This letter was proof, a correction.

And if Lavi didn't miss him, well, Kanda wasn't quite sure what to do with that.

He let himself fall back onto his mattress.

He'd been nothing more than a heady tryst – convenient and satisfying, a warm body to replace a lonely hand.

But if he was nothing more than a free whore, why were more tears sinking in the letter, peppering Lavi's truth with his delusion.

He'd always known that Bookman didn't form attachments.

And if he was just a piece of a future Bookman's trash, why did he hurt?

He should have known that Lavi didn't care.

All the sweet sentiments were sweet nothings now, and for once Kanda didn't try and lie to himself about why that hurt.

He swallowed the whys and wherefores, rolling onto his stomach and biting his pillow to keep himself from the indignity of raising the innkeeper with his wails.

. . .

Two weeks ago:

Lavi leaned back in his chair, setting his quill aside and rubbing his smile away with the back of his hand.

He wouldn't cry – he was too well trained for that.

At least Kanda could start to move on now.


End file.
